


Checkmate

by abderian



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Assassination Attempt(s), Chess, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abderian/pseuds/abderian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are very aggressive when you play, you aim to get to the King as fast as you can, taking the most direct route, and it will usually be effective, players don’t really know how to handle it when they come across the type of player you are, because you do have some grasp on the strategic game. However there is another type of player, one that’s say, more passive. That is the sort of player you will never beat because they really understand the game, they understand how you play, so they know how to manipulate you into thinking you’ve got the game won, when really all you have been doing is creating an entrance for them.”</p>
<p>Liam is heartless, emotionless, he lives for the kill, for his target to beg for their life. He lives for the power he feels. He is an assassin and one of the best. But his latest target, a blond piece from Ireland, is about to change all the rules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checkmate

xXx

There was something in the air that gave an intoxicating flavour to the Spanish clubs, the way they moved their hips, the music so sexual and energetic. Liam loved how he could lose himself in the flow, and just let the tequila cloud his mind, as though he had not long ago lost the ability to become inebriated.

His arms looped low around her back, and they swayed together, her smoky eyes smouldering as she looked up through long lashes. Her lips were stained cherries, pouted so carefully, so innocent, as though she didn’t know how overtly sexual those long finger nails brushing down his chest were. How he wished that he could reach down and whisper in her eyes, grab her wrist and woo her, take her all the way and then leave, just another pretty trophy in his cabinet. But he couldn’t, not with her. To try and woo her would be to sleep with a snake.

Her nimble fingers hesitated at his breast pocket, and while to the naked eye it was nothing more than innocent touching, Liam felt the USB drive drop in, heavy near his heart, the blood already pounding from the anticipation of the hunt.

Her almond eyes flashed, drawing him closer until his lips rested on the crook of her neck, just breathing not daring move, but allowing the scent of the spices that caressed her body to invigorate his senses.

“You know what you have to do,” Her voice was a purr, sensual in his ears, yet you could hear the roar that lay behind it, the threat of the temporarily harmless predator. “It’s good money if you can kill him.”

Her mocha ringlets were inches from his eyes, so soft that he wanted to run his fingers through them, to grab them and yank her head back and hear her gasp in pain, those perfect red lips parted in shock as he forced his own lips against them. But he restrained. “Where am I going?”

A single finger pushed against his chest, and she stepped back, a smirk dancing across her pretty face. “Ireland.”

And then she was gone, her body disappearing into the party.

xXx

The sun was sitting deep in the slopping emerald hills and Liam felt himself groan as the misty clouds started to seep along the horizon, knowing that he would be surrounded by rain before he reached his lodgings.

He hated rain. No, that wasn’t true, he didn’t mind the rain that washed away all the humidity in the tropics, kissing his skin like a natural shower. He just hated this rain, rain that stretched for miles, dreary and grey with no signs of stopping. It just clung to your hair, a soft halo of droplets that seemed to sink right to your bones, and let the cold settle there.

England, Ireland, they were the same really, and he hated them, right down to the soil, the wet moist soil that forced everything to be green. He missed the musty haze of warmth, that seemed to dip dye everything orange, just slightly off, not this blanket of green, blue and grey.

He could already see the smear of lights just a few kilometres ahead, and knew he was close. Flipping his indicator, he turned down a side street on the outskirts of town, where houses were sparse, separated by long fields and hedges.

Eventually he reached the driveway, turning down the long dirt road, the wipers brushing through the rain on his windshield until finally he saw the tiny farmstead ahead. Usually on missions like these he got to stay in swanky five star hotels, but on in the midlands of Ireland, he was lucky he wasn’t forced to stay in the local motel.

A tinny overhang allowed him to step from the car, the rain echoing loudly but he remained dry as he grabbed only a duffel bag and his laptop to take inside.

The house itself wasn’t decrepit, rather it screamed of a homely vibe and expensive tastes, a combination that sat weird on Liam’s mind, as he passed the fireplace, and switched on the electric heater.

Fireplaces was something that belonged in his past, when he was trapped in England, in that dingy old boarding school waiting for his parents to come and pick him up and knowing that they wouldn’t arrive. Not that he had any right to complain, he was the one who cut the brake lines when they hadn’t bought him that new toy he wanted, but as far as the police where concerned it was all a tragic mistake.

Liam clicked his tongue impatiently, eyes flicking to the USB as the files took too long to load onto his computer. Passwords and encryptions were plenty, because most people would tire of spending too many minutes to see the information. Or they simply wouldn’t be skilled enough to hack no matter how curious they were.

Finally the files unlocked, and an image was thrown up on the screen, causing Liam to blink his eyes clear of the brightness, before finally comprehending the image in front of him. It was a boy, probably around his age, though the youthful roundness to the cheeks and the ever bright blue eyes cast a deceptive enchantment around him, that even in a photograph you had to stare to try and decipher him. The grin wouldn’t leave his lips.

There was something invigorating about taking the life of one so full of energy, to see them crumble under the glare of the gun, trembling with tear filled eyes as they begged for you to reconsider. It was those heart wrenching begs that was Liam’s drug, that he needed to hear. He needed to see eyes so clouded with fear and denial they could survive, begging him to reconsider. He needed it.

And he could already imagine, those pretty blue eyes, draining away to a dull grey, wavering and unseeing, dark green clouding the water as the pupils dilated and shifted, switching focus between his face and the barrel of the gun. He wanted to watch the energetic blue, the brightness, leak from his eyes with every desperate tear.

Already Liam’s finger was twitching, feeling the gun sitting on his palm, his head cocked as he bought it up… bang.

xXx

Hospitals were so sterile. White and bland, Liam blanched as he walked the hallways. He avoided the facilities as much as possible, in his line of work there were to many questions. Rather his hospital was the back rooms of hotels, or the basement of his nearest colleague. Smaller, dingier, but definably more warm.

There was something about doctors, how they held your life in your hands that sat uneasily with Liam. He was a hunter, and giving anyone any power, any opportunity, terrified him. It seemed pointless, losing control when you are at your weakest and most vulnerable, it went against his nature, he was a solitary creature, craving not even his parents touch, he didn’t need the cold uncaring fingers of medical staff. That’s why he would choose to stitch himself back up, fingers nimbly sowing his skin, rather than endure a hospital.

He couldn’t keep the taunting smirk off his face, teeth flashing in the sterile brightness and doctors and nurses hustled by him, only glancing back momentarily, but losing the daunting stranger in the crowd. Liam kept his eyes darting across every face, looking for the one he had memorised in his dreams. At night, among the stars he had painted image after image of death, of colour draining from those ruddy cheeks, of tears mingling with blood and the blue of his eyes fading to grey.

He hadn’t felt the anticipation of the hunt for so long, and didn’t bother to look past the basic information. He knew were the blond was, employed as a nurse at the local community hospital. He couldn’t help but scoff, a male nurse, it spoke of misguided hopes to help but not being intelligent enough to become a doctor, no male nurses were the worst kind to Liam.

Finally he spotted him, slipping from a room with quiet silence and determined gait that was in contradiction with the meek character that Liam had envisioned, but that was of little importance. What was of importance was the blood that flushed his prey’s cheeks, creating an aroma that only Liam could feel, his body trembling with anticipation of the hunt.

His steps were silent on the faded linoleum, shoulder’s hunched and fingers caressing the gun nestled under his jacket, the bulky silencer already covering the nozzle. He wondered as he copied the movements of his victim, whether he would be forced to coerce him into a solitary environment or whether the blond would step into an empty room by his own accord.

The easy smile and nod of the boy just made his lips stretch in a demented manner. Seeing that smile in real life just made him all the more eager to watch it twist into a grimace of pain and suffering.

Liam twitched, unable to stop his body from moving as adrenaline filled his veins, debating whether it was worth grabbing the boy in public, when the decision was made for him. The blond slipped through a door, footsteps leading the two of them to an underground carpark.

“Why are you following me?” The voice started Liam, the soft lilting Irish tickling at his mind, almost disarming him as he hand trembled involuntarily. He steeled himself, pulling out a gun, the silencer firmly attached the barrel.

The blond turned to look at him, eyes simply glancing disinterestedly at the gun aimed towards him, an eyebrow cocked, as he kicked an old pipe by the wall.

Once again Liam faltered, this was not how he had imagined it. Where was the crying, the begging, the blue eyes turning grey. Instead the boy was silently challenging him, his eyes glowing brightly, dancing with the mirth of life.

Liam cocked the trigger. “Aren’t you going to beg for your life? Aren’t you going to cry like a child, snivelling at my feet, asking god for salvation.”

The easy smile he received in turn was unnerving, “I might beg god for a pint before I go, but nah I’m not worried, people die all the time.”

Liam grit his teeth together, heart pounding, fighting the urge to toss the gun to the side and smash his pretty Irish head against the cement wall.

“I am a highly trained assassin. I could put this bullet through your brain and kill you instantly or I could aim for one of your arteries and leave you here to bleed out while you choke on your own blood. I wouldn’t be laughing death in the face if I was you.” He was snarling now, spitting as he spoke, furious that this boy, Niall he remembered from the file, refused to play by his rules.

Niall simply smiled again, before hiding his face away under a scarf. “I wouldn’t be so sure if I was you, I’ve heard you couldn’t hit a target from a metre away. But go ahead, put a bullet in my brain.”

Liam’s blood was boiling now, no longer did he care to see the boy a quivering mess, he wanted to see him in pain, his skin painted red with his own blood, and that smirk blasted right of his fast.

He didn’t even realise when he pulled the trigger, but he realised when he saw the dust fill the air, the resounding crack of the bullet impacting upon the wall falling upon his ears. He missed.

His vision was swaying and with a sniff he realised he had missed the ever rising scent of leaking gas as the gun clattered from his now slack hands. The last thing he saw was Niall’s knowing smirk, noticeable only from the crinkle around his eyes.

xXx

His fingers furiously clicked at the keyboard, looking for his disappearing target. He had never lost someone before, they always had died that was why he was considered one of the best, but this blond had slipped right through his fingers with a smirk, and Liam would be damned if he let him get away.

He had access to every major database in every single country, even if he hadn’t gotten that access through completely legal means. Liam had been trawling them all for weeks, living on a diet on take out and beer, the images of him finally finding Niall becoming steadily more brutal.

The last thing he wanted was to have to report back to the agency. He knew they would find Niall again, it was what they did, but they could offer the target to a different assassin, one who was more competent he could practically hear them say, and Liam refused to accept defeat. He was the only one who would be killing Niall.

Ping. The facial recognition technology suddenly lit up, and Liam let out a breath. He finally had a lead. The blond had been caught on film as he wandered through an airport. Glancing at the location, Liam smiled. He was going to Sydney, Australia.

xXx

The black tie event made Liam nervous, having nothing but a revolver hidden beneath his suit jacket and knife strapped to his ankle. The mingling voices around him held the unfamiliar accent, just making him feel that little more uncomfortable. For all his travels, Liam had rarely had to visit Australia and now he wished he had. The warmth and blue skies, now faded to an inky black with a gentle breeze, was far removed from England, and as he had wandered through the city that morning, he found himself admiring its beauty.

But now it was time for business. His target was to be attending the black tie event on the harbour, but he had so far managed to evade Liam. A banner hang from the back wall, declaring the event to be held by Bruce Wayne and Liam couldn’t help but snort.

“Yeah, that’s what I love about the Aussies, they have a great sense of humour.” Liam didn’t flinch, simply calmly turning to Niall, as the blond appeared behind his shoulder. The suit caressed his thin waist, and his blue eyes danced with excitement as though he had spotted a forgotten friend in the crowd, and Liam found it difficult to maintain the anger that had built up. He couldn’t imagine that this was the same boy that had taunted him til his blood boiled, asking him to kill him like he was ordering a drink.

Niall seemed to sense Liam’s emotions and just smirked, sparking slight recognition in Liam’s stomach, urging him to reach for the gun and to end this game now. “Do you want to dance?”

That single question threw him, and he didn’t answer as he was pulled onto the dance floor. Liam was used to the heavy pulsing music of clubs, of bodies grinding and sweat hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to the classical music, the stiff waltz as he was lead across the wooden floor by a boy that was both shorter and lighter than him. He hated it, that he had lost control so fast. His hand tightened around Niall’s pulling him in, and taking the lead. Once again Niall just smirked.

“So you haven’t tried to kill me yet?” The question was easy, spoken with simply a curious tone as the orchestra changed the tune to one slightly more upbeat and the two slipped into a foxtrot.

“Not yet.” Liam replied through gritted teeth, suddenly pulled back from the dream that the other boy had cast upon him, and remembering just what he was here to do. But he couldn’t reach the gun as Niall kept grabbing at his hands as they twirled in dance.

“Come on, you don’t want to really kill me here, think of the orphans.”

The rest of the room was blurring as they spun, Niall the only think remaining in focus. “I have spent weeks looking for you so I could put a bullet in your head, do you really think I care about the orphans?”

Niall shook his head, that irritatingly perfectly bright smile capturing his face again, “Nah, I didn’t this event isn’t even for any orphans, I think it’s just a party for the sake of a party. But you do care about the security guards and videos. That’s why you won’t kill me just yet, so relax.”

“I’m here to kill you, you know this and you are telling me to relax?” Liam was incredulous but felt his shoulders untense. There was nothing he could do yet, Niall was right. Besides he couldn’t remember the last time that he had simply danced without the weight of the kill on his shoulders. A small part of his brain maintained that this went against everything, he was brutal, a killer, he was not supposed to dance with his target. He was supposed to be desensitised, unemotional, but here he was feeling happy. He was disgusted with himself, wishing he could just capture the lust that he usually felt, the way that he treated women like conquests.

He remembered how he would thread his fingers through women’s hair, not caring about their cries of pain, because he didn’t care about anything. But this boy, this frustrating boy had taken everything and changed it. He knew how to push Liam’s buttons, to anger him to the point of not seeing straight, to loosen him up, and to make him happy. He felt so out of control, and control was everything in his career.

The music had stopped and Niall was standing there, staring at him with a knowing smirk. Liam blinked, slowly going blank, blocking all memories of the past ten minutes as he reached into his coat, fingers clasping around the gun.

Niall leaned in, breath brushing against Liam’s cheek, and he tried to control his heartbeat, not understanding his bodies shuddering response. “Sorry Liam, but I’ve going to go now, but I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” And those soft pink lips pressed themselves against his jawline, and Liam was left dazed, fingers still clasping the gun, as Niall slipped into the crowd.

xXx

Central Park in fall was really a beautiful sight, especially as Liam watched the amber leaves drift in the wind around the stone chess tables where Niall was sitting, though not playing.

“Care to join me Liam?”

Liam didn’t even wonder how Niall had known he was there, though those blue eyes never looked up to his face until he took the seat opposite, the black chess pieces already lined up in front of him.

“Do you know how to play?” In the serene setting Niall’s accent seemed more pronounced and yet softer.

“You’re not like the others.” It was a statement, accusatory as though it was Niall’s fault that Niall was not dead.

Niall simply moved one of his pawns in response. “Your move.”

Liam complied, moving one of the black pieces forward, focused intently on winning the game. When he was at boarding school he had even joined the chess team, not because he was a nerd but because he could see the advantage of learning the strategic thinking behind the game. It had been years since he had lost.

“Usually my targets beg and cry. It actually creates this kind of high for me seeing them begging…”

“That probably the definition of a power trip, but continue, I’m interested to find out why I’m so different.” The smirk was back as Niall made another move, almost lateral without any attacking intent.

“That! You aren’t even afraid and it pisses me off just as much as it intrigues me. I want to kill you so bad but it doesn’t seem right when you just stare at me as though it’s a dare. You’re just a simple nurse from Ireland, you shouldn’t be laughing in the face of death.”

“A simple nurse from Ireland?” And once again Liam was stumped, by the teasing tone in Niall’s voice that told him that he was wrong. “Why would you think I was just a simple nurse from Ireland?”

“That’s what your file said…” Never had Liam met a single human who could make him feel so inferior.

“What else did my file say?” They were still playing, making moves so fast that it was impossible to believe that they could maintain the conversation and still focus on the game.

“Who cares what your file said, obviously it’s wrong.” Liam knew he was being sulky as once again he felt Niall taking control. His fingers slipped into his pocket and pulled out a knife, twisting it between his fingers, trying to maintain that he could still slit the others throat at any time.

“So I’m guessing my file didn’t say much at all, that’s a shame, you really should know who your agency wants you to kill.”

“I know who my agency wants me to kill. Niall Horan.” Niall was practically laughing as his fingers clasped the taken castle.

“Yes, but who is Niall Horan. If I really was just a simple nurse from Ireland, why would there be an assassin after me. It seems to me Liam you are just a bit of a pawn in this game. You don’t really know anything.”

Liam just growled as he moved his piece, this time taking one of Niall’s knights. Watching the board he could see that he could get checkmate in only a few more turns.

“But you don’t care who I am do you, you don’t care where I’m from, what I did, as long as I love you.”

Liam’s head snapped up, a flush lighting up across his cheekbones. “Did you just paraphrase Backstreet Boys at me?”

Niall shrugged, “I’ve always thought that it would be cool to be in a boy band, getting to sing to sold out stadiums, win awards, live the life all with four other guys who become like your brothers. That would seriously be the craic.”

“You are mental, criminally insane, and the reason I’ve got to kill you is because you are a threat to yourself and the rest of human kind.”

“Hey what do you know, you do have a sense of humour.” Niall’s grin was back, no longer a smirk, but wide showing off teeth that you could only get that straight through the use of braces. Before Liam could retort, his eye twitching and his grip on the blade in his hand getting tighter, Niall spoke again.

“You know, you are actually quite a good chess player, but you are a very specific type of player.” Niall moved his piece and allowed Liam to take his bishop.

“Check.”

“You are very aggressive when you play, you aim to get to the King as fast as you can, taking the most direct route, and it will usually be effective, players don’t really know how to handle it when they come across the type of player you are, because you do have some grasp on the strategic game. However there is another type of player, one that’s say, more passive. That is the sort of player you will never beat because the really understand the game, they understand how you play, so they know how to manipulate you into thinking you’ve got the game won, when really all you have been doing is creating an entrance for them.”

Niall moved his piece while he was talking, not moving his king to prevent Liam’s check but rather moving other pieces. “And that is checkmate.”

Liam simply stared at the board, trying to work out if Niall was lying, but he wasn’t. The blond had captured his king, well and truly he has lost the game. Pale fingers grabbed the dark piece, rolling it over not dissimilar to the way that Liam had been holding his knife, before being dropped into a dark coat pocket.

The sound of footsteps cutting through the fall twilight drew Liam’s attention away from the chess board, and to Niall was again walking away. Fingers curled around the handle of the blade, Liam threw, watching the flash of silver hurtle toward the back of the blond, until he side-stepped last second, leaving the blade stuck in the trunk of a tree, and Niall’s laughter on the breeze as he disappeared down the path.

xXx

It was cold, way too cold for Liam as he huddled in the oversized jacket. Why he had decided to follow Niall to Moscow was beyond him, but now here he was among the swirling snowflakes, imaging the red against the white.

“Smile.” A camera was shoved in his face and a body pressed against his as the flash went off and Liam blinked away the tiny dots of light to reveal Niall smiling over the photo he just took.

“You can’t have a romantic night in Moscow without the couple shots to complete it.” He laughed again, wholly and unbounded as he brushed a kiss against Liam’s face and started off through the snow.

“Couple? Are you fucking kidding me? Since when are we a couple!” Liam took off after the blond, who had his fingers outstretched to catch the snowflakes as they drifted down.

“From the moment you tried to kill me, I just figured we skipped all the awkward flirting and honeymoon stage and got right down to unresolved sexual tension and arguing.”

“I’ve never known a relationship based on someone wanting to kill them.”

Niall paused, turning around with his head tilted, the large full moon hovering in the sky casting an angelic light upon his blond hair and blue eyes, making both take on a silver sheen. He was biting his lower lip, drawing Liam’s eyes to them, unable to look away as Niall silently spoke as though considering his next action.

They both moved closer, and Liam barely registered the moment when Niall’s lips curled into his telltale smirk. They were simply millimetres apart, their breath visible and hot in the frigid air. As Liam leaned in to close the gap, Niall turned away, walking down the street once more.

“Stop lying to yourself Liam, you can’t kill me. Somewhere along the line you failed and you know it. Everyone does, they can’t help it. Once people get to know me, they want to protect me, so it goes against everything to kill me. You’ve fallen for me Liam, don’t deny it.”

Liam’s hand was outstretched, grabbing for Niall even though he had already moved beyond arms reach. “How can I possibly have gotten to know you? I know nothing about you.”

Niall smirked, “You know my name, you know my face, and you know my personality. What else could you possibly need to know?”

“How you’re body looks when it’s in rigor mortis.”

“How romantic.” Niall was standing on the curb, thumb out hailing a cab. As the car pulled up to the curb, he turned his impossibly bright eyes on Liam. “Next time I expect flowers alright.”

And Liam was left kicking himself as he let Niall escape once more.

xXx

Home. Years after he had left this godforsaken city behind he found himself back here, breathing in the smoky London air and feeling oppressed by the rolling thunder clouds in the sky. How he hated London, but this was where he was going to end it, he was finished with the game of cat and mouse.

Niall was sleeping, unable to stop Liam because he could open his eyes and leave him flustered with a string of words. Liam held the knife aloft, feeling so stereotypical. He tried to avoid the clichés, and yet here he was, a knife in his hand about to cut out the heart of someone defenceless.

He plunged the knife down, however it was stopped as Niall woke, and grasped the blade. Both of them were breathing heavy as their eyes connected, and Liam smelt the rustic aroma of blood fill the room as the red liquid slowly slipped down Niall’s wrist.

And then Niall’s hand was in his hair, pulling him close as their lips crashed together, the knife slipping and clattering onto the floor. It was desperate and hunger, hands grapping at each other, months of growing tension being unleased at once.

Liam’s face was painted red, and Niall’s cut hand caressed it, literally pulling Liam into the bed beside him, straddling him as he created a trail of love bites across his collarbone. But Liam refused to give up control this time, this was one time when he was going to have power.

He flipped the pair over, flinging Niall down with force that made the bed bounce and left hand prints on his arms. He bit down on the blond’s lower lip, fingers pressing tightly against the smaller boys hip bones as he wrestled the pants down.

It was hot and sweaty, so completely out of line with the London landscape, but it was so perfect. They fit together, a rush of moans and pleads, and Liam felt his stomach twist with excitement as he finally had Niall underneath him, begging in way that he had never begged for his life.

The moon was still high in the sky when they finally just lay still and drifted off to sleep, tangled together, blood and cum stains across the sheets.

It was some time in the early dawn when Liam became aware of the catching coldness, of the emptiness of the bed, and he forced his eyes to flutter open. Niall was gone. He flung the pillows at the wall, swearing and screaming that he would have to track down the wayward blond again.

His feet hit the carpeted floor and he slipped through the hotel room, eerie in the early morning silence. He could hear only the slightest of birds tweeting in the distance, through the single open window.

To his left he saw the mirror, and that was when he hesitated. It was resting atop the tallboy, with the king chess piece from Central Park in the centre, and Checkmate written in what looked like Niall’s blood. And scattered around the mirror were pictures, pictures of him, taken as he looked for Niall, even the shot of the two of them in Moscow. But the main picture was sticky taped to the glass. A simple and familiar shot, one that he himself had gotten so many times through email.

The mirror was perfectly positioned to see the roof of the building opposite the hotel, and Liam saw the glint of the sniper as it fired.

Checkmate.


End file.
